And I will try to understand
by A flash delirium
Summary: Post-Hogwarts. Draco, now leaving in the muggle world, meets a drunk Hermione.


**So, here's a new one shot, most likely to become a two shot, but yeah, i don't know. I know I wrote this but this is kind of strange, I can't write a proper story and that's sooo frustating. Anyway, as usual, everything belongs to J. K. Rowling and nothing is mine except the plot of the story. **

**Enjoy. **

_**/ / /**_

The cold breeze makes Draco shudder, but he doesn't really mind. He likes it when the weather is cold, it's relaxing and most of the time, it reflects his mood. As he walks, bag in hand, the tall blond takes in his surroundings.

Glare. Glare. _Murderer_. Condescending look. Glar- ouch. A sudden pain spreads through his shin, he looks down and, really? Did this child really just kick him there? Several years before, the little boy would be dead by now, but today, he just narrows his eyes so that they're just thin lines – he knows it makes him look scary, at least for children.

"Boo."

He just has to say this word (is it really a word by the way?) and the rude kid opens his eyes wide, stumbles back, turns on his heels and runs away from him, calling out for his mom. He smirks and resumes his walking, even though he doesn't find this funny. This is quite the contrary actually. This whole situation is frustating and tiring and annoying, really, and he can't stand it anymore. All the looks he receives, all the insults he hears even if people whisper them, his entire being being constantly judged, his past tattoed to his skin, as if it's the only thing that defines him, his mistakes. He even fears for his life sometimes. That's so overwhelming and he's so tired of that.

That's why he chose to leave the wizard's world, not totally of course, he still goes there pretty often, but now, he lives with the muggles. Not that he really had the choice because the Malfoy's manor was destroyed a year and a few months ago anyway. He finds it rather funny how his own species loathes him the same way he used to despise all the people he now lives with, all these years ago. Maybe he would laugh about it, the irony of the situation, if he wasn't the one that has to put up with all of this.

Do not misunderstand though, he still is Draco Malfoy, conceited, proud, and enjoying every time he spends with women he doesn't know, and never will. He doesn't like them, but he loves their bodies.

And tonight will be no exception, he thinks.

_/ / /_

Idiot, dumb, stupid, dense, silly, brainless are words that can easily qualifiy Ronald Weasley right now. He really is the dumbest person living on this Earth. The worst part of it is that she knows that, better than anybody (remember, she spent most of her time with him and Harry when they were in Hogwarts), and yet, she's still there, with him. Or she was still with him three hours ago or so, and now... Whatever.

She wants to laugh because Merlin, this whole situation is so ridiculous. They spent their childhood together, grew together, fought side by side during the War, but now they can't be with each other because _Mione, you know I love you, I really really do, but...don't you think that we're too different? I thought about us a lot recently, how you don't like to do things that include other people and you know, alcohol, and that you spend most of your time reading or working, and you're so... And I'm not... You know what I mean?_

His speech was stupid –just like him– but Hermione wasn't, that's why he didn't have to say it twice, even though she would've like to know what "she was so...". Idiot. Really, he wants someone that like to drink and get wasted and have an inappropriate behavior ? _Great, find your brainless someone, see if I care_.

She drinks up and snorts. She can party too, of course she can party. The fact that she doesn't go out that often does absolutely not mean that she doesn't enjoy doing so. She watches the muggles dancing and drinking around her, and smiles slightly. Nobody would recognize her in a nightclub that was in the muggle side of London.

She orders another glass of alcohol (she can't remember what it is but it tastes so good that she doesn't really mind).

And no, the fact that she downs drink after drink that night is not Ron-related at all.

_/ / /_

The first time Draco lays his eyes on Hermione, seeing her again after a long, long time, is when said girl is on the dancefloor, dancing –or rather flailing her limbs around– with absolutely no rhythm. The first thought Draco has when he sees the Gryffindor embarassing herself in front of all the people surrounding her is _absolutely ridiculous_. The first sound he hears from her that night is when the latter chooses the exact moment he passes right next to her to empty his stomach, a disgusting substance covering up most of his favorite –and expensive, really expensive– t-shirt. The first touch Draco shares with the brunette is the contact between his right hand and the drunk girl's wrist, holding it tight so that she is looking at him, a little bit afraid. The first words that he tells her are W_hat the- you just ruined my t-shirt you stupid bookworm! What's wrong with you? _

And just when he's about to throw himself on the _stupid bookworm _(he tries not to think that this is a paradox) to teach her how to not throw up on people that are supposed to be your ennemy and ruining things they really, really liked, a pair of arms circles his body and lifts him up, and surely enough, a minute later, the both of them are standing in the street, people around them throwing them somewhat condescending looks.

_Merlin_. Draco mentally facepalms, wondering what he's done to deserve this (because no, all that I-was-a traitor-during-the-War thing can't be the reason why this is happening).

_/ / /_

Hermione doesn't quite understand why she's not in the club anymore, why her left wrist sting like hell, how she can still be up with all the alcohol she drank, and damn, _where's the music?_ Why did someone turn the music off? She squints a little, trying to take in details concerning her current whereabout. She's seemingly alone (no wonder why, she came here on her own), it's freezing, the moon shines and wait- the moon? She's outside, really? Why? Actually she doesn't care, she just wants to go inside again and dance, she wants to-

"Hey, Granger." Before she can think of a plausible explanation as to why she's standing outside, a voice speaks. Not that she could have suceed in thinking anyway.

_Ranger ? Isn't that the french word for tidying up ? Pronounced with an atrocious accent ? _In any normal circumstances, Hermione would have snort because maybe the person should learn how to speak, but the situation is far from being normal, and everything is ridiculous right now and she doesn't even try to contain her chuckle. She opens her mouth and her body shakes with laughter because hey, that's so funny, this person acts like she knows how to speak french when she obviously doesn't, how stupid right? She wants to laugh even more after a question pops in her mind. Why on earth would someone want to tidy up in the middle of the night when she's here to drink, dance, and get lost in the rhythm of the music?

Two surprisingly strong arms grab her by the shoulders so suddenly that she jumps a little, startled. A boy appears in front of her face (or maybe that's an angel because there's white everywhere around him and her vision is a little blurry at the moment), and doesn't seem pleased at all.

"You vomit on me, wrecking my favorite t-shirt in the mean time, and I was thrown out of the nightclub because of you, and you still have the balls to laugh in my face ? Who do you think you are, you usele-" The voice seems familiar.

The angel (let's call the person like that, that's safer that way) never gets to finish his sentence because two lips are soon pressed against his before the two of them really understand what is happening. Too drunk to have coherent thoughts, Herlione belatedly realises that she's the one that shut him up by crashing her lips on his and she doesn't know why she did that, she just knows that she had to (she can't be sure of it yet because she doesn't trust her eyes right now but if it really was an angel, how great would it be to say later that _yeah, one time I kissed an angel?_). And maybe because she wanted to, too. So badly.

And one of the few things she will recall from that night is that the boy-slash-angel kissed her back. He really did kiss her back. And that suddenly, the night wasn't so cold anymore.

_/ / /_

The morning after, Draco tiptoes so as to not make any noises and when he's at the door, he turns around and watches the silhouette lying down on the bed. He knows the person, what they did, but can't understand why. He's in a daze right now and everything is confused in his mind and he will think about it later, he thinks as he leaves the room, and then the house.

_/ / / _

When the sunlight hits her face, Hermione wakes up with a throbbing head and her heart in her throat. She tries to sit up on the bed –bed that surely does not belong to her... well, let save that matter for later– but the world suddenly starts spinning and Merlin, why is this room so lighted up? It feels like she's on the surface of the sun or something like that, and her eyes don't quite appreciate that. She blinks several times then narrows them, examining the area. The room she's in is almost scary, and seems to be abandoned. There's only a bed in it, plus a worn out armchair near the door, a scent of old hovers in the chamber and the wallpaper... let's not talk about the wallpaper (Hermione really hates clowns, they terrify her). She's covered with a light blanket and behind her back, there's a fluffy pillow. The brunette tries to sit up again, warily this time, and that's when it hits her. The question she should have asked herself as soon as her eyes opened.

_What am I doing here ?_

_/ / /_

Facing the mirror, Draco stares at his own reflection, as if contemplating what was wrong with him, because there obviously was something that needed to be fixed somewhere in his brain. He squints, opens his eyes, closes them, and squints again. He increases then decreases the distance between the piece of glass and himself, one, two, three times before finnally giving up, running a hand through his hair and sighing. This is _so_ not like him.

Okay, the part where he picks a girl he found on his way and ends up in that old room he used to go to when he was still a teenager and needed to think or be alone is very Draco-like but why on earth did he do _that_ ? Leaving a note with his name was one thing, a _really stupid_ thing since the girl would have forget everything about the previous night anyway, judging by her drunk state ; asking the former Gryffindor if they could do that again was another thing, surely dumber than the first thing ; but feeling nervous and even insecure not knowing whether the brunette would come or not, that was definitely not something Draco was used to experience. Merlin, he was _Draco Malefoy_.

It isn't the fact that he had sex with Granger that bothers him (even if she is one of the most annoying woman he has ever met, she still is a woman, and a good-looking one, he had already accepted this reality years ago), rather that he desires her, he can still feel her skin under his lips, her hands on his body, and he- should stop thinking about it now.

He doesnt want to admit it to himself, but he really wants to kiss her again, to hear her again, to feel her again. There are no feelings involved, like miss (really, how can he miss someone he hated for more than seven years of his life, and met again like ten hours ago?) but just a strange desire of wanting to see her again. And the sooner was the better. He's really looking forward to their next encounter, if there's a next encounter that is, and that kind of freaks him out because that is _so_ not like him.

He sighs and this time, he really facepalms, not just mentally.

_/ / / _

Looking around, Hermione notices a slip of paper on the pillow next to her.

_I never thought our paths would have cross again. Less like that. _

_Not that I complain... By the way, care to do that again ?_

_No relationship or whatsoever. If you're okay with that, __same place, 8:00pm, on friday ? I'll be there._

_Draco._

Hermione frowns as she reads the words and flashes from the previous night start to run through her mind. That's the problem, they're only flashes and too quick and useless and Hermione is frustated. It feels like last night was something somehow important and she wants to remember it, but everything is in a blur, and the only thing she can clearly see is eyes. Mesmerizing eyes. Probably Draco's if she refers to the little note. She closes her own eyes and searches through her mind. She recalls something about an angel, alcohol, and sex, mostly sex actually. And that's it. She knows her evening revolves around those three things but she can't grasp any details. She wants to scream. And she does (but only after covering her mouth with her hands because this house seems scary enough and screaming inside it doesn't seem like a good idea).

She runs a hand through her hair and then she freezes. It's only now that it hits her. She, Hermione Granger, had sex with Draco Malfoy. She gasps. She's really talking about that Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince, the Coward, the Traitor, the boy-who-once-was-a-death-eater, the Ferret. Damn, she slept with the enemy (and tries very hard to forget that she thought that he was an angel) ! _And she can't even recalls it_, she whines... and then widens her eyes because she realises something else. She can't say she regrets doing it. It's impossible. Firstly because she doesn't have enough details she can be sorry about, secondly because every girl on this planet would probably die just for a look from the blond, and finally, even if she doesn't remember what they exactly did, she feels weird now, but a good kind of weird and she likes that.

Then, there's this paper. An explicit invitation to more sex, and Hermione is not into this kind of things at all but somehow she knows it's the only way she has to see him again. And surprinsingly, she wants to do that. The War ended years ago but the scars it left aren't healed yet (and probably never will be anyway, too many wizards died back then) and people are still not able to forgive the Dark Lord's devotees, holding them responsible for the death of their loved ones and fearing the rise of another dark lord. Needless to say, Draco Malfoy is one of the first name related to Voldemort's, his past follows him everywhere and that's probably how he ended in the muggle side of London the night before. This is the first time she sees him again after the Dark Lord's fall (technically she saw him the night before, she just doesn't remember it yet).

And even though she knows almost everything about his passed actions (the result of seeing each other every day at Hogwarts, during six years), she still really wants to see him again. There's something fascinating about him, there always was. His eyes, that's what attracts her. She can't quite understand why she would want to see someone again just because of their eyes, but that's okay, right ? She will figure it out later.

And that's how, even though red lights flash _NO_ in her mind, even though inner voices scream at her that this is a horrible idea, even though she's slightly scared, even though she doesn't know what to expect at all, Hermione decides that next friday, at 7:55pm, she'll be standing in front of this house again.

_**/ / / **_

**Weird, right ? **


End file.
